


Unreliable as the Mind

by Ramasi



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing and regaining his memories doesn't make Light's already complicated feelings for his opponent any simpler; and L might have even less scruples about killing someone he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unreliable as the Mind

L will probably never know – and knowing him as he does now, Light doubts he would have cared of he did – that he is largely responsible for Kira's persistence and ruthlessness.

For the first days, weeks, Light goes through his murders detachedly: he goes to school, he does his homework and he studies; he helps his sister if she needs him; he meticulously researches, carefully judges his criminals, and he writes the names in a clear neat writing, line after line, while Ryuk peers over his shoulder with a bright grin. There is a clean, clinical feeling to it, just words on paper, problems – people – erased with a pen, and even though he would never admit it to himself (he is aware of what he's doing, accepts the burden of it!), it makes their deaths distant and unreal.

He has never loved, safe for the routine, expected affection for his family, and he is certain, he never will: love, as he sees it, thrives on mutual respect, and he will never find anyone to love because – he knows this as a fact – no-one is his equal. It doesn't worry him: he always hoped, secretly, that he would find ways to impact on the world – there is no space for personal, intimate love in this plan.

Everything changes when L appears. This cry-out, this arrogant challenge makes his own actions more real than all the gossip about Kira he has heard until now. He has been expecting this answer from the law, but still the he's shocked by how threatening and dismissive the detective dares to appear to Kira. He doesn't hesitate to kill for a moment, to show the world what will happen to those who stand in his way. The first time he kills someone for interfering, but he never looks back: he was prepared for this as well.

But he hasn't been prepared for L, and his tricks and traps and taunting, and the moment the voice speaks over the image of the dying victim, carelessly sacrificed, he feels something inside him snap. And everything in him flares up and focuses: his hate, his anger, his desire to win and to destroy. The burning rage is different from the one that has made him use the notebook to make a better world in the first place: personal, mingled with grudging admiration and a tint of fear, and secret excitement. He can not remember ever having felt challenged, let alone threatened by anybody. He feels stronger towards this faceless, nameless person than for anyone else before.

 

He can't tell at which point the shift happens. Channelling the emotion is easy, even as he meets L face to face. The figure hunches behind him day after day, following his every step, asking him trick questions, casually throwing what one has to consider the most insulting suspicions at him and calling him his friend, mindlessly touching his perfectly ironed suit with sticky fingers, leaning, with no regards for personal space, over his shoulder to see what he is reading, and breathing unto the back of his neck. He bears all this with a polite smile and occasional complaints, and waits until he's alone to scream his rage. He has soothing dreams about wriggling his hands around the detective's neck and squeezing the life out of him more than once, and wakes up fists clenched so tight his nails leave red marks on his palms.

The killing of criminals becomes a tedious chore. The verbal sparing with Ryuga, as he calls himself, takes up all his concentration. Meeting him, once again, over coffee and obscene amounts of cake, he looks over the table and hides, behind his easy smile, the almost overwhelming desire (to kill, to humiliate, to destroy, to convert, to...). The detective doesn't seem to notice, utterly concentrated on the piece of cake before him, and Light forces himself to keep the smile in place, not to be fooled by the apparent distraction.

When L, identity confirmed now – and if he's glad, it's just because knowing his enemy brings him a step closer to killing him! – enthusiastically calls him his friend, he pushes it away very fast. It doesn't matter; it's probably a lie anyway. Not for a moment does he consider to take advantage of it.

Maybe, before, he would, despite his disgust with her thoughtless killing of innocents, have felt a little touched by Misa's devotion and courage; but he is burnt out. All he can think of is how convenient it can be. But this is better. He has a mission, and no place for feelings at all.

 

His memories have vanished, but the feelings they incited remain.

It should not matter. Of course he feels strongly towards L: he has every reason to resent the detective, who has left him looked up for so long, and tortured Misa, and now chooses to chain him up for an undecided time, to hate the person who keeps accusing him of being a mass-murderer when it should be obvious that the real mass-murderer is _out there_.

Only, he's too intelligent not to see the change of pattern in this Kira's action and all the hints that point to him, and while he doesn't agree with him he understands L and – the emotion remains, but the outlet of anger and murderous rage is gone, and what remains is that, to his own surprise, he _likes_ L, with his huge eyes and silly mannerisms and his sharp mind. He's easier to communicate with than anyone else he has ever met, keeping up with his own trail of thought, jumping to the right conclusions needing only a few words or gestures, responding with the same minimalism – until he's purposely being obtuse, which is often enough, and then he's fun to play with.

He tries to fully concentrate on what's important, catching Kira, proving his innocence, showing _L_... but that only leads to long nights sitting next to the detective, alone in the building, in the bluish light of the many screens, talking back and forth in tired, hushed, concentrated voices, and that is pleasant, something he could easily imagine himself keeping doing, quietly working together with the detective, until L has to ruin the peace again, stamping percentages on his behaviour. Light know better than to let his guard down and not to expect this, but he's innocent, and he sees no reason to indulge the other by appearing careful about everything he says.

They spend an absurd amount of time watching each other: staring at the screen, working, but humans have 180 degree vision, and they're both more than capable of multitasking. It's sometimes hard to understand what part of L's strange behaviour is calculated and how much is genuine lack of social skills, but Light is almost certain he's the one who starts the flirting, easily, naturally, one more game between them, and there's no way he can lose here: no matter how complicated L is, Light is good at this. He's never let himself be impaired by real affection, and he sees no reason to start now only because the affection is actually there.

 

One evening, as they sit before the screens together in silence, he kisses L.

He's been wanting to do that for a while, even though on the complete list of things he'd like to do to L, it only ranks somewhere between punching him and stuffing a bread loaf into his mouth.

After a surprisingly short time, just when Light thinks of breaking the kiss, the detective responds, eager – Light makes a mental note to question his reasons for the handcuffs at the next occasion, he's been wanting to do that for a while too, though he doubts L will be phased – and obviously inexperienced: Light gets a vague feeling that he's trying to approach kissing like eating a lollipop, and that doesn't quite work. When Light draws back, L is staring at him with his impossibly wide eyes. Light licks his lips, winces at the odd taste, sugar and chemicals and, very faintly, strawberries, very L.

L continues to stare; this is nothing new, as L _always_ stares, at the screen, at his sweets (intensely looking at a pile of them, going through the apparently endlessly complicated process of choosing which one to eat first, and Light feels avenged for everything the detective put him through when he sees the look of absolute horror on the usually impassive face when he casually steals one of them), and most of all at him. It's been agonising to get him to turn his back as he finishes undressing (no amount of reasoning will convince him to take his eyes off him while the handcuffs are removed so he can take off his shirt) or takes a shower; there's just no point in complaining about L probably watching him sleep all night: you have to pick your battles. Light figures that in the end, it's L's problem, but now, after this first kiss, he wonders...

"Light-kun?" L eventually says; Light can just see the percentage-counter go wild in his head, as he tries to figure out the meaning of this, and this stimulates him to try a second kiss; it lasts longer; Light puts his whole skills into this, leans very, very close to the detective with his whole body, and is pleased to hear him panting very faintly when he breaks away.

"This is nice," L comments this time, sounding mildly surprised, and eats a piece of cake.

And, Light realises, observing him carefully, behind the expressionless eyes and the nonplussed tone, there's definitely incertitude. This is possibly the first time L has ever kissed anyone, maybe even the first time he's ever wanted to, he's that much of a recluse (and this really shouldn't make him feel warm, but it does), and in a way, he is vulnerable.

If I was Kira, Light thinks, and tries to stop this trail of thought; but he can't; if I was Kira, I would take advantage of this.

Then it hits him – no, that isn't right, he's known all this time, L reminds him of it often enough, and yet suddenly it's a shock:

"You still think I'm Kira," he says, managing, with effort, to keep himself from insisting on the "you", because L would notice and would know what it means.

"At the moment, I am about nine percent sure that Light-kun is indeed Kira," L answers easily.

Light grits his teeth, because one of the things he's learned about L is that he's a shameless liar, and that if the percentage was as low as he pretends, he would have been looking for other suspects instead of chaining himself to him.

"Then how can you _do_ this?" Light snaps.

"I am very found of Light-kun," L admits, nibbling at his thumb.

That has to be the weirdest love declaration ever. Light wants to hit him; he looks just as innocently wide-eyes as before, and Light slowly realises that this is probably not an act, that the detective really sees no problem in kissing someone he strongly suspects of being a dangerous mass-murderer, and he doesn't flatter himself into thinking this is because L likes him that much rather than because L is _insane_.

 

There is no better medicine against love than being stuck with the person in question at all times. In the case of someone as constantly infuriating as L, this should be easy, but it's not, because: L has always been this infuriating, and Light has always known this. It's probably, in some twisted way, part of the attraction.

Besides, there are ways to express the frustration: fighting, of course, and, now, sex. After weeks of flirting, they've moved from their first kiss to intercourse in less than twelve hours, and Light has to admit, in many ways this is much more satisfying than punching L. For one, L is extremely good at fighting, but he's not quite as skilled nor as dedicated in wrestling for dominance in bed, and Light likes winning, especially against L, and he loves L's body, usually so closed on itself, as if trying to take up as little place as possible, sprawled out beneath him, open.

It does undermine the feeling – the victory – a little, however, that L approaches sex with a completely childish carelessness: he will bring candy to bed, talk about work, suck his thumb in a decidedly unsexy way, and he comments on Light's a bit too smug grin one time with a dispassionate "Light-kun has very traditional views about sex".

 

One thing that he has not foreseen in his plan to lose and then retrieve the death note and his memories of it is that living, for a while, fully self-aware, with a different set of memories, forces a strange way of looking at yourself onto you. He can now take parts of himself, cleanly cut apart, and observe them separately, in light of the fuller knowledge he now possesses.

Another one is that L is a stubborn bastard who's good at getting his way.

Well – he's always known that, really. Unlike him, L is absolutely horrible at convincing people, but he makes up for it with sneakiness and selective deafness; the latter is particularly effective if you happen to be L: Light guesses, furious, that in the end, he wins the argument about him staying in handcuffs against the whole rest of the team for the simple reason that he's the one with the keys.

He's never, never been in so much danger, and he doesn't need the confusion, nor the uncomfortable clarity that comes with the return of his memories, all of them; he has to focus, but he must be able to do this without pushing aside everything unpleasant and ignore it. He's stronger than that.

But what he knows now is this: he doesn't have to call it love, but he cares for L, wants L, admires L, enjoys L's company – and he still wants to beat him too, but he wants him alive, and he needs to kill L, and soon, or L will have _him_ killed.

He lies in bed that night, the chain he was sure he'd be rid off still around his wrist, and stares at the ceiling; L is sitting next to him in his usual position, nibbling on his thumb. He hasn't made a move on him, which in unusual, as Light strongly suspects that just being in bed makes him horny – probably because he's certainly never come to associate the place with _sleep_ , the insane insomniac.

"For how long are you planning to keep this up?" Light asks, and manages to keep his voice free of everything but irritation, unexaggerated.

L casts him a glance: he looks gloomy, the way he did when he lost motivation for the investigation. You'd expect he'd be happier to have discovered the murder weapon and gotten to keep his main suspect despite all the evidence to his innocence – but maybe he's not as convinced of his guilt after all. Maybe...

"Two weeks," he says, in his monotonous voice. "Until we've tested the thirteen days rule."

Light lets escape an exasperated sigh; his heart is pounding, and he can only hope L won't touch him, won't notice.

"Will you at least let me see Misa before she leaves?"

L blinks.

"Why?" he asks; Light wonders if he's jealous, if he's even capable of jealousy or if that's another thing out of his grasp to comprehend other than in theory.

"Because after everything she's done for me during the investigation I _care_ for her."

L looks away again, and rests his chin his knees.

"Misa is still under suspicion of being the second Kira, so she's not going to leave."

Damn. Damn, damn damn, he needs to talk to Misa, he needs her to be in imminent danger, or Rem won't _understand_.

The next day passes in oppressive silence. L is gloomy and more taciturn than usual, and Light is haunted by the paranoid feeling that maybe the test has already been arranged in secret; he can't ask without seeming suspicious. He has to appear annoyed but careless overall to his father and the others – and bear with the way his father, out of all of them, is the only one who regards him with dark suspicion.

Almost as much as the impending threat of his execution, it scares and angers him, now that he remembers, that every day that passes is another day on which no criminal dies, on which the wicked can breath and slowly regain confidence, and the thought that if he doesn't escape, they never will again is unbearable. His world will be in pieces. It's been too long since he's held his power in his hands.

And L, the total bastard, sits there next to him, dark expressionless eyes glued to a screen, devouring a bangle and planning his death simply because he cannot fathom that there can be a different outcome than the detective catching the culprit and everything turning back to routine, and just doesn't care.

 

Night finds them alone again, he lying down, though he's sure he couldn't sleep even if he meant to, L sitting next to him in his usual crouched position, looking deceptively young and defenceless as the dim moonlight washes over his pale face.

To collect courage – when has he ever needed that? – and remind himself, Light clenches his fingers around his watch, with little hope that the detective won't notice, but considering what he's about to do, it doesn't matter.

He's not sure for how long he lies still, calming himself, thinking, but when eventually he speaks, his voice is collected:

"I am Kira."

The detective doesn't move. There's a silence, before he says, in his usual, monotonous voice: "I know."

Light waits, and then he can't stop himself from briskly sitting up, at which L concedes to turn his head to look at him.

"That's all you've got to say to it?" Taking control of the conversation is one thing; but he needs to know something about L's reaction, and he's beginning to think he's perfectly capable of simply ignoring a confession that doesn't fit into his plans.

L is still looking at him. He shrugs.

"I suppose that if you're confessing, I should call the others," he eventually says, and Light manages to fight down the urge to grab him and hold him in place even as he moves.

"Wait," he says, not too commanding, not too pleading, like someone who's about to continue to talk and knows he'll be listened to.

L does, and stares at him with his wide eyes that are oddly devoid of sharpness for being so observant.

"I'm sad," L simply admits. "I thought we had more time."

Light breathes. _Good_. But he needs to be careful now: if he tries to seduce L, he will notice, because if he knows nothing about human interaction, he knows all about manipulation, and in many aspects, that's the same. And if he tries to convert him, he'll grow bored. But he can still win this: he can afford a little sincerity. He has utilised himself before.

"We could have more time," he says slowly.

L blinks.

"You think I'll let you get away?" he asks, blankly.

Light gives an irritated headshake.

"You already won," he snaps – and is surprised how much this admittance stings, more than anticipated, because deep down it feels, rightly so or not, more true than he's wanted to admit on the surface; and on another level it's surprisingly painless, as if he and L had reached a closeness and understanding where victory and defeat have ceased to matter, and that's a dangerous mistakes, for it's his vision and his bare life he's bargaining for now. "Isn't that what this has been about from the start?"

"I'm not going to," L goes on, ignoring this completely.

"Listen –" Light snaps. "I admitted defeat. I confessed. What more do you need?"

He's not prepared for it when L suddenly goes from total motionlessness to fast, efficient movement, and pushes him back down on the bed. Light stares up into the dark eyes right above him, and then drags L down for a single kiss: L is still clumsy, but he's gotten used to that by now. A lack of reply, incertitude, is good, but he's not stupid enough to take this reaction for a positive answer; if anything, L is trying to distract him from the argument with sex, and he can't permit that; he holds him up over him with one hand, lets the other hand roam over L's side to keep him satisfied.

"You could stay with me. I'd need your help. You would uncover criminals, and I judge them – there'd never be mistakes."

The dark hair falls all over L's face, and there's a silvery quality to his eyes, like a cat's. He lies down over him completely, and as far as Light can tell, that's just to be more comfortable.

"Light-kun is a mass-murderer with strong sociopathic tendencies," the detective says, in a soft voice, lips still close to his, as Light's arm, holding him at bay, has begun to weaken.

Light fights down the urge to defend himself and his ideals. Instead, he goes still and only says:

"But that's what you thought this whole time. Even when _I_ didn't know..."

L brushes away the arm that holds him up, and rests his head against Light's chin, and his reply, mumbled against him, is so quiet he almost doesn't catch it:

"Does Misa have her memories back as well?"

Light's breath hitches. He knows what L means to say, of course: I know you've done this before, turned people into tools; and: would the two of you have killed me if I had arrested her two hours later, if I had not kept you a prisoner here?

"No."

"Is the thirteen days rule false?"

He closes his eyes; the fear wells back up inside him, raw and abject, further than defeat, death. L knows this already, so this must be exactly what he wants, and maybe it's not too late to take all of it back, to at least kill –

"Yes," he says, and without opening his eyes: "Ryuzaki, _please_."

L is not sensible to this relinquishment of his pride. "Mmm," is all his says, in an interested way, as he pulls back again to look down at him; Light opens his eyes when he feels L trail a finger over his face, and wonders if he tries to remember it for the time when he'll be gone. It's obscene: he, at least, had no memory of staging this man's death when they started this.

For a moment, out of habit probably, L resists when he moves under him, but then he allows himself to be pushed off, and ends up next to him, lying on his side, mouth half open in surprise, and winds his end of the chain around his wrist, probably preparing for a fight. Maybe he's not quite aware this isn't a usual part of a relationship.

Through the fog of fear and anger, Light manages to say: "Do you want me dead?"

L shakes his head.

"Let's not talk about this now," he says, no less calm than usual, and quickly drags himself back up into his usual position. "I need to think."

Light opens his mouth – to continue to push, to argue, to _scream_ , because L's calm is driving him furious – but there is a new danger in showing anything that can be seen as malice. He shivers all over: as much as he doesn't want L to die, he doesn't think he can bear letting him live once he gets free again.

"Fine," he only says, ridiculously lightly, as if this was one of their pointless arguments from _before_ and he's giving in because he's the mature one.

All he can do is close his eyes, force his breath to become steady, and pretend to sleep.


End file.
